This I Promise You
by TheEndsongAbyssXV
Summary: Broken. Weak. Useless. Slut. That's what the slaves were called by their masters. It was their life, to subject to the depraved, carnal desires of another. Because a slave can't choose how they live, can they? (AU. slave!Law).
1. Chapter 1

He had been a slave all his life, but not a simple slave used for physical labor or menial cooking or tending a family in a posh little plantation manor. There were so many times in the years he could remember that he wanted to die for what he was. He was one of the worst, the most tormented, the most anguished, the most used.

He was a sex slave.

…and had been since the approximate day he turned fourteen…

Before that, though, like every other male child slave not sodomized by a vicious master, he worked his body to the bone in the fields. Female children were never so lucky. He often heard them screaming in the slave shacks at night when masters came to ravage their not-yet-pubescent bodies.

He had been a sex slave for six years, not that his body was pure and untouched when he turned fourteen and was sold to a new master. After all, he was a beautiful young man, or so he had been told. He had been touched and taken many times.

His body was skeleton-thin without an extra ounce of flesh on his frame, but toned from years of hard work. His hair was unkempt and raggedly cut, but thick obsidian-colored and wispy like fine chocolate curls on a rich cream cake. His eyes were even more shocking. They were beautiful, a liquid gunmetal and deep with profound suffering and sadness.

While his body and features were attractive, the numerous scars and abuses his body had suffered had taken some of the beauty from his figure. His stomach was concave, eyes sunken deep back in his face and shadowed heavily with exhaustion and bruises, his hands were stick-thin with nails chewed to the quick, and his ribcage was crooked and craggy with numerous breaks. He had been beaten countless times and his sun-deprived skin still bore the pearl-white scars. He looked sick and dead, like a corpse made up to be gorgeous in its velvet coffin.

The worst part of being a sex slave wasn't the sex, which could hurt and make him sick to his empty stomach; it was the horrible used feeling that welled up in his heart. His body was dying all around him from the tortures he endured.

Then, on one of the days he couldn't thoroughly recall in absolute clarity because of his growling empty body, something happened that he wasn't expecting. His master took his blood to be tested for disease and fed him a heavy meal of bread and milk. Then, he was told that he was being sold.

Through all that joy, he could only dwell on the way his master took him the final night and morning he was in her possession:

Gripping the sheets tightly in his white-knuckled fingers, he screwed his eyes shut as she dug her fingers into his chest and rode him. She was moaning and yowling in pleasure, like a rutting bitch in heat. Her wetness soaked the cavity of emptiness in his stomach and her fingernails carved half-moons in his skin. When she kissed him, he let his lips be bruised and crushed beneath her onslaught. Then, she bit him and suckled at the tear in his thin lips.

When she was finished, she lewdly spread herself against him on the bed and made him touch the depths of her wet core. He stroked her the way he was supposed to and brought her to another shattering climax. Then, she fell asleep.

She slept with her leg draped over his narrow sharp waist and her cold fingers fisted in his freshly washed hair. When the sun dawned on another sleepless night turning to day, she groaned in her sleep when the light touched her closed eyes. Then, her eyes opened and he pretended to be asleep, hoping she wouldn't take him again.

"Hey, wake up," she crooned against the shell of his ear. A shiver ran down his spine and he tried to keep his faux sleeping face blank. He heard her make a displeased sound in her throat and then he wished he had woken up when she first bid him to.

"I said, wake up!" she snarled and pinched his nipple hard between her fingers and twisted it viciously.

Whimpering in pain, his eyes slid open.

"Were you faking?" she hissed.

"Yes, mistress," he confessed weakly.

Her mouth twisted meanly and her brows rose. "Oh, do you know what I do to lying slaves like you?"

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. "You beat them," he whispered.

Her pointed tongue traced the long length of his collarbone and then she bit him, hard, in the hollow of his throat. He heard the flesh rending like the first bit of a crisp peach and the pain rocketed through his entire body like a white-hot flame.

"You're lucky you're being sold today or I'd whip this beautiful translucent skin right off your chest," she snarled. "I'd skin you down until I was able to see your beating heart," she splayed her fingers on his chest and then dug her nails into him, "and I'd squeeze it in my hand until you stopped breathing."

He shuddered.

"But, you'll be gone soon and I'll be a married woman just next week. I can't say I'd rather have your cock than kill you, but your body is within my grasp." Her cold hand ventured between his legs and wrapped around the length of him. She squeezed firmly and rubbed him into fullness.

Afterward, she scooted down the naked curve of his body and mounted him. Rocking her hips, moaning, and cursing, she fucked him the hardest she ever had. She gripped his shoulders, dug her nails into his flesh, and then hit him. Once, twice, three times, she slapped his face.

His teeth sank through the corner of his mouth and she lewdly licked the blood away.

He squashed down a whimper of fear as she fisted her hands in his hair.

She kissed him, hard, pushing her tongue into his mouth. She clawed his chest and fondled him and struck him a few more times and finally her muscles clenched hard around him. After she climaxed, she spread herself on her bed and waved her hand at him.

"Alright, you can go now. I have no further use for you, fuck-toy," she said.

And then, she sent him off to auction like the piece of used worthless property that he really was.

...

Dressed in a fresh pair of ragged pants and a loose threadbare shirt that once may have been white, he watched as his hands were shackled in front of him. Then, they led him out of the plush plantation manor. The lady master was getting married and was not longer allotted a sex slave, especially one as beautiful as him. He was packed away in the truck and then the vehicle trundled away from the place where he had spent years on the cold floor and in her bed.

At auction, lined up like a fish to be filleted, he waited to be sold and owned again. Finally, his turn came.

Cold fingers gripped his face and turned his eyes from the floor to the assembly of buyers. Unable to meet anyone's eyes, they rolled back in his head in resistance.

"I have a handsome young man here! Sex slave, appears completely broken! Do I hear 900 dollars?"

"950!"

"1,000!"

"1,100!"

The bidding continued and he tried not to think about what new horrors his body would be delivered to, but his twisted shattered mind just kept replaying images and terrors to him. He could be bought by a man and sodomized, taken from behind, or sucked by a sour mouth. A sadist could beat him to a bloody pulp every night or stuff his body with toys and gag him. A woman could be almost more inventive than men.

"3,000!" The sweetness in the voice surprised him. It was gentle and feminine and kind.

Her bid was followed by a collective gasp from the assembled crowd. No one would pay so much for a used sex slave. For a virgin female, maybe, but never a violated and beaten male slave.

His chest clenched and he was suddenly afraid of the hope blossoming inside his heart.

"Do I hear 3,050? 3,050? No?" The auctioneer waited for a moment and then released his face with a snarl.

"Sold, Number 17 for the price of 3,000 dollars!"

He got a harsh shove and stumbled from the platform into the waiting arms of the auction guard, also a slave. The beefy man handled him back into the cells to await his new master to come pay for him. Shivering with cold and fear, he huddled in the dark corner. He could hear the auction through the thick stone walls and abruptly felt nauseous. His empty stomach roiled with acid and he almost retched, but tamped down the urge as there was nothing in his stomach anyway.

Surprisingly, after only a few minutes, the beefy slave came to get him. It seemed his new master had no intention of staying throughout the entire auction.

His raw wrists were shackled again and he was led from the darkness of the cell. In a lighted room with polished linoleum floors and marble countertops, a slender young woman waited. He wouldn't dare look at her face, but her legs were long and shapely and she had a narrow waist with lightly flared hips. She was wearing a beautiful white dress with a long flowing skirt and some gold embroidery. Her feet were small and dainty and her toenails were painted dark blue with silver stars.

As beautiful as she was, he realized something was wrong with her when she turned. Her right leg dragged slightly on the floor behind her when she walked. It was encased in a tight metal brace that went far up her leg to disappear beneath the hem of her white skirt and traveled down below her foot and shoe.

She was crippled, it seemed. Maybe more than just her leg, but he didn't dare raise his eyes to look.

"Hello," she said in that beautiful sweet voice of hers.

He dropped to his knees in a graceless bow. His fingertips were scant inches from her feet and he suddenly realized how easy it would be for her to just crush his bones beneath the heel of her shoe.

"Oh," was all she said and she did not so much as move to grind his fingers beneath her foot. "Could you stand up, please?" She continued. "We need to be going soon. I can only stand on this leg for a short while before it weakens too much to stand on."

He rose to his feet and held out his wrists for her to attach a leash.

She attached a soft loop of what looked like silk to his black and bloody chains. Wincing as the cold metal rubbed roughly against his chaffed wrists, he followed her obediently out of the white room.

The sunlight kissed his pale flesh and the faint flower-scented breeze whispered on his cheeks. Unthinking, for a moment, he paused and turned his battered face into the sun. Breathing deeply of the fresh air he hadn't tasted in years. The only smells he had known were blood and sex and his own unwashed skin.

He heard the girl make a quiet sound and instantly snapped his eyes back to the ground.

"It's alright," she whispered. "You can take all the time you wish…"

He shook his head and took the few steps required to reach her side.

"Really, it's alright," she told him gently.

He wrapped his fingers into fists and tried to resist the tremor that wracked his frame.

For a moment, they stood there and he felt the young woman's eyes on him. Then, she made a soft noise and started walking again. Her leg dragged along behind her, metal brace screaming on the macadam. He wanted to offer to help her, but he couldn't speak to her without invitation.

They reached a vehicle, but he didn't raise his eyes to see what color or model. Unbidden, he took a few extra steps and opened the door for her.

"Thank you," she said kindly and he watched her legs as she eased into the driver's seat of the vehicle. She slipped her body in first, then her good leg, and finally lifted her crippled one in with both her hands wrapped around her knee. "Go ahead around and hop in the passenger seat."

As he slid into the plush seat, he took a moment to wonder why she had thanked him.

Masters never thanked slaves.

The engine turned over on the first try and then the car rolled out of the lot. "Here we go," the young woman said cheerfully. She paused to adjust the heater and then shift her crippled leg into a better position to allow her good leg to reach the pedals.

He glanced up and saw the auction house disappearing in the mirror. This part of his life was over and he dared hope it was for the best.

...

Finally, the long drive ground to a halt in front of the most beautiful place he had ever seen. The moment he saw it, his awe overwhelmed his fear of even being beaten. He straightened in the seat and leaned in at the window.

The house was beautiful. It was mildly colonial and painted crisp clean white. Its shutters were deep blue, cobalt colored, like deep twilight. It had many big windows and a few done in beautiful brightly colored stained glass. The porch was wraparound and decorated with a beautiful ornate railing. Several wicker sofas and chairs lined the porch.

All around the house was a burgeoning garden with every sort of flower he had never seen. A big beautiful cherry tree was in full bloom, decorated with pink, red, and white blossoms. Petals and the wonderful scent swirled on the breeze.

It was like something from his dreams.

"We're home," she said beside him and his eyes instantly crashed to the floor of the car again. His shoulders trembled. "It's okay," she whispered. "I love my house, too. I just bought it, after I left home, after it happened."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and she was resting one slender pale hand on her crippled leg. Like his fingers, her nails were bitten to the nub.

What had happened to her leg?

He reached for the handle, preparing to get out and open her door for her.

"Wait," she said suddenly and his back tensed. "Let me take those things off you."

His fingers worried at the hem of his shirt. Things? His clothes?

"Here," she said and reached for him. Much to his surprise, she lifted his hands and quietly unlocked the chains around his wrists. Then, she tossed them in the backseat with a sound that must have been disgust. "It's sick," she whispered, "what they do to you. Disgusting."

He shivered.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she whispered and clasped his hands gently in her own. "I'm sure you don't believe me, but I…"

Her hands were so warm and soft, touching him softly, compassionately.

She never finished what she was saying. She was staring at his hands, at the many countless wounds and scars in his flesh. "Oh my God," she whispered and he tried to pull his hands away. She only tightened her grip on him. "How could they do something like this to you? How could anyone hurt anyone so badly?"

He had wondered the very same thing many times when his body was torn and beaten and raped. His wrists were encircled with scars, pink and thick. They were old burn scars from searing hot metal shackles. Other smaller fainter cuts crossed over and around the burns. These were from chains he had struggled against as a child, knives and razors that slowly dug through his flesh, and a few small punctures from places were nails had been driven through him.

Further up his arms were other scars: lacerations, cuts, and smaller burns from the years before he turned fourteen, before he became a sex slave, when he still worked in the fields. These were mainly accidents. She could only see the scars on his arms, not the ones on his back or his chest or his heart.

He heard her sigh, but did not dare raise his eyes.

Slowly, her warm soft hands left his wrists where they had been gently touching the ridges of his scars. She cupped his face and tried to raise it, but he twisted from her hands. She held his shoulders and they felt like the skulls of birds. Delicate, weak.

"Please, won't you look at me?" she whispered.

A distressed sound emerged from his throat, fighting past his teeth to escape.

"I promise not to hurt you. I just want to see your eyes," she murmured.

This time, when she slid her fingers under his chin and lifted it, he allowed her to, but he kept his eyes screwed tightly closed. Her soft fingertips touched his eyelids gently, but he resisted her quiet encouragement to open them.

It was forbidden for a slave to look at a master! Forbidden! He would be punished for such a crime.

Shivering, he waited for her to finish touching him. She traced the planes of his face with her fingertips, gently, lightly. Her touch ghosted over his eyes, his high sharp cheekbones, his split lips, the shadowed bruises around his eyes, the scars on his brow, and down the curve of his jaw. Then, she tenderly ran her finger down the column of his throat and then across one long deep collarbone. Her hands rested on his body for a long moment.

Sighing so suddenly that she startled him, she then pulled away and opened the door. "Come on, then. Let's go inside," she said kindly.

He scrambled from the car, gingerly touching his sore chaffed wrists. He followed after her as she limped up the stairs, fished out a ring of jingling keys, and unlocked the door. She stepped inside and he heard her shrugging from a jacket of some kind.

"Come on in," she murmured as she hung the jacket in the hall closet.

He closed the door quietly behind himself and inhaled the scent of the house. Something was cooking, meat and vegetables and something vaguely garlic-scented. Beneath that was the smell of clean linen and soft flowery perfume. The dark hardwood floors were polished to a sparkling shine and waxed so there was a faint trace of lemon. There were no rugs on the floor and a few lamps were glowing with low light. The atmosphere in the house was beautiful, relaxed, calm, and, above all, safe.

"Let's go to the kitchen. I put something in the crock pot this morning and it should be ready by now."

He wondered if she planned to starve him. Some people liked their slaves slender to a dangerous anorexic state. Bones were beautiful, lovely, and white. His stomach growled hollowly, empty. He hadn't eaten in days, since before his last master had sent his blood in to test for diseases.

"When was the last time you've eaten?" she asked as she limped to the kitchen and flipped on the light. Warm amber light flooded the kitchen, bouncing off the marble countertops and sparkling copper pots hanging from the ceiling rack. The glass topped table was set with a lace tablecloth and a vase of wild daisies.

He bit his lip. Should he lie or confess that he was starving?

"When did you eat last?" she repeated patiently and lifted the lid on the crock pot to investigate the contents.

The scents that washed over him made his mouth water and he tried to remember exactly what day his blood had been sent out. When had he last eaten?

"Do you understand me?" she said, sounding very concerned.

He nodded.

She let out a sigh of what must have been relief. "Good," she murmured and he heard her stirring the food. She delicately sipped the broth and made a sound in her throat. "Perfect. Now, tell me, when did you last eat?"

He hesitated, "I'm not sure…" His voice sounded strange to his own ears, weak and shivery, like that of a small fearful child.

She was quiet for a long moment and then she shuffled to a cabinet and began pulling out dishes. He heard her set them out and then ladled food into them. "Come, sit at the table. Would you pull a chair out for me, please?"

Scrambling to do her bidding, he rushed to the table. Her gait was lurching, jerky, as she limped to the table and set out two bowls. One was significantly fuller than the other and she set that one in front of the chair she seemed to intend him to sit in. Trembling, she lowered herself into the chair he had pulled out for her and then cursed quietly.

His back jerked ramrod straight.

"I forgot spoons. Would you get some, please?"

He hesitated and glanced at the kitchen through the veil of hanging pots. "Where are they?"

"In the second drawer from the left side of the fridge," she said and sounded happy.

He got two spoons and returned to the table.

"Sit down and dig in," she said. "If you want more, just tell me."

He wouldn't and he was sure she knew that because she went quiet and ate delicately. He wanted to nibble at his food, to appear as if he wasn't starving to death, but once the first taste touched his tongue. The ravenous appetite he was trying to hide surged up through his throat. It must have been the best thing he had ever tasted. The meat was soft and juicy with potatoes and carrots and celery mixed in a smooth broth.

Before he knew it, he had emptied his bowl.

"Would you like more?"

He shook his head.

"I won't hurt you. I just want you to eat your fill."

He shook his head again.

She sighed and whispered, "Maybe with time…"

Then, she stood up, took his bowl, stacked it on hers, and limped to the kitchen sink. He watched from the corner of his eye as her pale white hands loaded the used dishes into the dish washer. Then, she closed it and took a few hobbling steps back to his side.

"Come on. I've already got a room set up for you," she murmured and he followed her down the hall. She pushed open a door and flipped on the light. "This will be your room. Mine is right down the hall so, please, if you need anything don't hesitate to ask."

He wouldn't and she knew that.

She smiled, though he didn't see it, but her voice had lightened. "One more thing, if you hear anything during the night, wake me. That's an order."

And with that, she limped down the hall and disappeared in her room.

Spent and shivering, he stepped into the room and looked around. It was painted pale blue with soft white curtains and a plush white carpet that his feet sank into. There was a nondescript dresser and two dark wood doors with crystal knobs. Closer inspection led one to open into a bathroom and the other to an empty closet. Finally, he hesitantly went to the bed and brushed his hands over the soft cotton quilt. Some black sweatpants and a loose one-size-fits-all t-shirt had been left out for him.

He quickly changed clothes, laying his slave garb neatly on the nightstand next to the bed. He slid between the crisp cool clean sheets. The bed was blessedly comfortable, but he could not sleep.

Through the door, he heard the young woman crying in her sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

(I made a change in chapter one about his name, so go re-read it before you read this chapter.)

(And yeah, I know this is totally OOC, but I'm writing the story based on the OnePiece fandom head canon that Law was a slave before he became a pirate, and was "bought/rescued" by Doflamingo.)

(Based on the criminal cases I've worked on involving human trafficking and sex slaves, this is all pretty much what I've seen. My job pays well, but it SUCKS.)

...

The morning dawned with a thick grey blanket of clouds in the chilly sky. It looked like rain and the blossom-scented air now hung heavy with the tang of rain. He had gotten little sleep last night though he had only ever slept in a bed after a master was finished using his body. The girl had been crying and making small sounds of protests in her sleep. When she finally collapsed into exhausted quiet, he had also drifted into the world of nightmares.

All night, he dreamed of his first master–the father of the woman who was getting married and had sold him–taking him without preparation. No words could accurately describe the tearing pain when taken from behind. The fat girth of a grown man's cock pushing into his not-yet-pubescent body tore him apart. Then, thrusting and pounding, groaning so loudly in his ear, slimy tongue tracing his jawline and the column of his throat. Finally, there was hot liquid filling his body and then dribbling down his parted thighs.

He had felt sick and used for days after that, though his master gave him little time to think about what had happened. Each night, he fucked him and, sometimes during the day, the master cornered him and forced his cock down his throat. At night, he dreamed of the occurrences again and again, as frequently as he had been taken.

Finally, the night came to an end.

He got out of bed, neatly smoothed down the sheets, changed back into his worn clothing, and folded the pajamas up on the pillows as he had found them. Then, he went to the bathroom, relieved himself, and timidly splashed some cold water on his face.

He barely recognized his battered reflection in the mirror. The bruises around his eyes were a touch lighter and the thick bloody split in his lip was beginning to heal at the edges, but the rest of his face was his usual beaten countenance.

Then, he quietly peeked out the door.

The aroma of coffee bathed the inside of his nose and he could hear rattling popping cooking noises coming from the kitchen.

For a moment, he hesitated.

The girl had not told him to leave his room nor had she told him to stay inside it. She might have company over even so early and his appearance might anger her and her guests. He would hate to start the day being beaten or whipped or end the week by starving.

Finally, he stepped from the room, quietly shut the door, and crept silently down the hall to peek into the kitchen.

The girl was there.

She was sitting in a wheelchair with her back to him. Her shoulders were narrow and shiny, as if they had been polished, and trembled faintly. She was wearing a dark purple tank top, a grey and white tyedye skirt, and the brace on her leg with a single high white sock beneath it. Her other leg was bare or shoes or socks.

He watched the arch of her long thin pale arms as she cooked something on the stove. There appeared to be no one else in the house.

With a momentary lapse in judgment and spike of bravery, he stepped into the kitchen with her.

"Good morning," she said without turning around. "I was wondering when you'd come in. You've been standing there for quite some time."

His heart began to pound against his ribcage, knocking loudly and impossibly fast.

Suddenly, she said, "Please forgive my appearance this morning. My leg is feeling particularly weak and painful today. I don't often use the wheelchair, but I do when it's completely necessary."

He wasn't sure what to say or even if he should speak.

"My name is Topaz, by the way," she continued. "I meant to say so last night." She turned in her wheelchair and his eyes crashed to the floor.

"What's yours?" She asked sweetly.

"I don't have one," he whispered.

"What?" A distressed sound emerged from her throat. "You… have no name…?"

"If it pleases you, master," he whispered.

"It does not please me."

He bit the corner of his lip hard between his teeth and tasted blood. The tear in his lip had opened again and he quickly licked his lips to catch the blood. He felt a single drop roll down his chin and tried to catch it in his cupped hands, but it slipped through his fingers and splattered on the floor.

Topaz turned her wheelchair and he felt her eyes on his bloodied hands. An apology was burning on his tongue as she rolled across the floor to stop in front of him.

"Oh God," she whispered and took his hands in her own. "It's not your fault. That's not what I meant. It's alright."

He shivered and the tremor wracked his hands in hers.

"It's okay," she murmured. "It's alright. How about nicknames? Do you have any nicknames?"

He shook his head.

"Well, what does everyone call you?"

He wet his lips, tasting blood, and hesitated. "…Brat," he whispered, "and fuck-toy…"

Topaz rubbed his icy skin between her palms. "Does anyone ever call you anything… nice?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head again and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Would you… like a name?" she whispered.

His eyes fluttered open of their own accord and he stared at their hands. His crimson blood was smeared across her white skin and his flesh looked like cracked parchment against her rosy tone. He wet his lips again. The bleeding had stopped, but his lips were crackly and itchy with dried blood. Then, hesitantly, he nodded.

Instantly, his mind was flooded with names she might give him. All horrible wretched rotten names… Dog, animal, slave, worthless brat…

But she said none of these or anything worse.

Gently, she rubbed the scars on his wrists and then said quietly, "How about Trafalgar?"

Trafalgar…

"It's a Cape Town, and a name for a battle that occurred in the 1800's," she continued. "I rather enjoy history, and I've always been fond of that particular battle. But...if you'd like something shorter..." She grew silent, making little 'hmm'-ing sounds.

"How about Law?"

He weakly shook his head, but the words that emerged from his mouth spoke another idea. "If it pleases you, master," he whispered.

She squeezed his hands. "It's your name. It only matters if you like it," she murmured. "So, do you like it?"

He swallowed and then hesitantly nodded.

Trafalgar Law…

He had a name now. It was his name, his own, his only possession, all his. He found himself wanting to protect it from anyone who wanted to take it from him. There was a special something about having something that's all your own when you've never had anything of your own before.

"Okay, then, Law," Topaz said and she sounded like she was smiling. "Let's have some breakfast."

He jerkily nodded and she released his hands, rotating her wheelchair and going back to what was cooking on the stove. He stepped up behind her and gently laid the pads of his fingertips on the handles of her chair. Then, realizing what he was doing, he snapped his hands back to his sides.

...

For a long moment, they stood quietly in the kitchen while Topaz cooked whatever she was cooking in the pan.

"Would you get down some plates, please? Second cupboard from the sink," she said suddenly.

He nodded, got the plates, and set them down neatly at her elbow next to the stove.

"I'm making omelets," Topaz said and suddenly swooped the omelet onto one of the plates. Then, she cracked three more eggs, whipped them in a bowl with some milk, and then poured them into the hot pan. "Push the toast down, please."

He moved and pushed down the button. Then, he returned to her side.

When the toast popped, she asked him to splash some butter on it. Then, she finished the omelet and slid it onto a plate. "Alright," she murmured. "Let's eat. Grab the plate of toast please." She put the omelets on her lap, carefully arranging the plates so the food didn't slide off, and wheeled herself to the kitchen table. She set out the plates, nudged the chair that she normally sat in aside, and wheeled her chair into the empty space. "Have a seat, Law."

A little shiver ran down his spine at the sound of his name. His name. He found he rather liked the sound of it.

He sat next to her, set the plate of toast down, and she pushed a plate in front of him.

"Dig in," she said and cut a big bite from her omelet.

Starving, he bit into the omelet. It was all meat and cheese–sausage and ham and cheddar cheese and neatly chopped Roma tomatoes. He hadn't eaten so much of anything in his entire life. He was used to his stomach growling emptily and his body weak from hunger. Again, within moments, he had cleaned his plate.

"Have some toast," Topaz murmured and placed a tower of three pieces on his plate. The final piece she left on the plate.

He dug in, crunching noisily. Hot butter ran down his chin and he quickly wiped his skin on his shirt.

Then, contentedly full, he sat back and watched her long-fingered hands as she delicately ate. Her hands were trembling, shaking. Then, he noticed her gnawed fingers were bloodied and raw. She had torn the flesh from around her nails, leaving them swollen and bloody.

He looked down at his own hands, scarred and equally wounded.

He thought of her leg, wrapped in that metal brace, and her limping hobbling walk.

He wondered what had happened to her, but he would never ask.

He was a slave and she was a master. No matter how kind she was, there was a rift between them.

He could never speak to her without invitation.

He could never look at her.

He could never know the color of her eyes.

He could never touch her unless ordered.

Yet, at the slightest provocation, she could have his body, his life, his blood, and his flesh.

After all, like his name, he was her possession.

...

"Let's get you cleaned up," Topaz said and the words sent a stab of sudden fear down his spine. She wheeled herself back from the table. "Could you put the plates in the sink for me, please?"

Law stacked the plates, carried them gingerly, and set them quietly in the sink.

"I'm sure you saw the bathroom attached to your bedroom. There're some towels under the sink and a toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb, and other toiletries in one of the drawers. You'll have to look around for anything else you need. Everything is in there somewhere. Shampoo, conditioner, and a razor are already in the shower," she paused. Maybe she was smiling at him. "If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to ask me, okay?"

He nodded and started to walk down the hall.

"Law?"

He froze, half turning to face her.

"Nothing, never mind. Please, just let me know if you need anything."

The bathroom was painted pale cream and tiled all in pale golden yellow. The vanity was swirling gold and green marble with shiny golden faucets. The single big window was decorated with stained glass and framed by white lace curtains, the shower curtain bore the sunny visage of a burgeoning garden, and there was a blown glass vase of yellow and pink tulips. It was peaceful, beautiful.

"Do you like it?"

Her voice startled him. He hadn't heard her chair on the hardwood floor rolling up behind him.

"We could change anything you want in this room. These are your rooms, after all. I want you to feel comfortable here," she murmured and sounded for the entire world that she meant everything she said.

He nodded.

She rolled into the bathroom behind him, reached through the shower curtain, and started the water. "I… I really do wish you'd say something…"

"I'm sorry, master," he said instantly.

She sighed heavily. "After you get cleaned up, we're going to the mall to do some shopping. We're meeting up with a few of my friends, so please don't put those clothes back on. I'll bring you some clothes and leave them on your bed for you, alright?"

"Yes, master," he said quietly.

She sighed again and rolled herself carefully backwards. "Okay then, get cleaned up," she said finally and left. He heard his door close quietly.

He stripped out of his slave garb, wincing as a rip slithered through the threadbare shirt, and cautiously ventured a hand beneath the spray. Shock had him snatching his hand back immediately. The water was warm! Water was never a warm comfortable temperature. It was either scalding hot or icy cold, but she had set the temperature herself so there could be no mistake.

Puzzled, he got out a fluffy towel and stepped into the shower. The water swirled down the drain thick with dirt and dried blood. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair and over his face. His lips split open again and the warm water burned the wounds on is wrists. Groaning in pain, he scoured the rest of his skin ferociously. Then, he washed his skin with the soft sweet-smelling soap and worked the shampoo into a rich lather in his hair. Content that he was clean enough to appease his new master, he shut off the water and stepped out.

He dried off without looking at his skeleton reflection in the mirror, wrapped the towel around his waist, and stepped out into the bedroom. A small stack of clothing was waiting for him next to the pillows. Feeling vulnerable in his nudity, he dressed quickly in the jeans and pulled the t-shirt down over his head without a care for the wet state of his hair. The shirt hung off his frame and the waistband of the jeans just barely caught on the sharp bones of his hips. He pushed his feet back into his worn shoes, returned to the bathroom to comb his wet hair and brush his teeth.

As clean as he had ever been, he hung his towel neatly over the shower rod, folded his filthy clothes up and placed them on the vanity, and left the room.

Topaz was in the kitchen, sitting in her wheelchair and talking quietly to someone he couldn't see. As it was, he could only see the curve of her shoulder and part of the back of her chair, but he could hear every word she was saying.

"He didn't have a name, Marina-chan." Topaz was saying in a rather distressed tone of voice.

"They normally don't. Ryou-kun didn't either when I first got him," another young feminine voice said and he heard a deep sigh.

"Please, tell me he'll get better with time, like Ryou-kun did."

"Your Law doesn't know it yet, but he has the best person to heal with. You're amazing, Topaz-chan. No one is better than you, except maybe me." There was a girlish giggle.

He heard Topaz begin to laugh as well. "Oh please, I have problems too!"

When the giggling quieted down, he heard Topaz say almost nervously, "Do you really think I can help him, Marina-chan?"

"Of course. Just give it time." They were quiet for a moment. "One more thing, Topaz, dear. What kind of slave is he?"

"He's a…he was..." Sakura seemed to be hesitating. "…a sex slave…"

"WHAT?" There was a lot of gasping and wheezing. "You bought a sex slave? Why?"

"I don't know! The auctioneer grabbed his face and his eyes were rolling back in his head. I just saw him standing up there on that platform with his face all bruised and his body all bloody and something in him just called to me. I just… wanted to help him… With all my heart, I just want to help him…"

"You have a great heart, baby. If anyone can help him, it's you."

"Thank you, Marina-chan. I really needed that," Topaz murmured.

Law leaned his forehead against the wall and sighed heavily. A shudder ran down his spine and then he felt the soft touch on his back. He practically leaped out of his skin in shock and terror.

There was a young man standing behind him. Like Law, he had scars lacing around and around his wrists and up his arms to disappear beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt. His body was trim and lean, but solidly muscled. His red-brown hair was long and almost raggedly cut and there was a white swath of bandages wrapped around his head, pushing his hair up in tufts and spikes. He had bright green eyes, vibrant, lively, not the eyes of a slave yet the scars displayed that he most certainly was or had been.

"Hey, you must be Law-san? Topaz-chan told us all about you," he said cheerfully and clasped his hands neatly behind his back. "How do the clothes fit? Topaz thought you were about my size and asked me to bring you over something decent."

Law tried to speak, but his voice came out a whisper, "These are yours…?"

Ryou nodded and grinned. "Yup." Then, his green eyes grew very serious. "So, what kind are you?"

"Sex."

Ryou lowered his eyes down Law body and back up again. "Aah," was all he said. "Marina-chan got me from the work house. A plantation, nice place, but one of the managers had issues. I was beaten to a bloody pulp when she got me."

Law murmured sympathetically. He knew how that was, being beaten blue and bloody and raw, having it hurt to breathe.

Ryou put a warm hand on his shoulder and Law flinched. Immediately, Ryou lowered his hands, but said quietly, "I know you won't believe me, but you have a wonderful master. Topaz is a beautiful, gentle person and she's been hurt badly by someone she loved and trusted so she will never hurt you."

Law stared at the floor, unable to allow his heart to rise up to meet the hope this young man was dangling before him.

"Alright," Ryou continued. "You've been hiding out long enough. I know Marina-chan wants to meet you."

"Yes," he whispered.

Then, he and Ryou went into the kitchen.

Topaz was sitting in her chair. She was wearing jeans with her brace fastened down over them and a sweater and purse in her lap. "Hello, Law," she said cheerfully. "You look nice all cleaned up."

"Thank you, master," he whispered.

"Ooh, Topaz-chan, he's so gorgeous." The girl's voice he assumed to belong to Marina was cheerful, bright, and held no trace of discrimination. Law surveyed her legs. They were bare and lightly tanned, strong and toned, and so long beneath her pleated green schoolgirl skirt. She wore dainty white tennis shoes on her feet and that was all he dared to look at.

"Hey," Ryou squawked.

"You're handsome, Ryou-kun," Marina said plainly, "but, he's so...hot, mmm, especially when he fills out and gets some meat on those bones?"

Ryuo grumbled.

Topaz said cheerfully, "Come on, Marina, quit picking on him. Let's go, everybody!"

Law watched her put her bloodied hands on the wheels of her chair and begin to roll herself towards the door. She bumped herself up over the threshold easily and then carefully stopped at the top of the front steps. She buoyed herself out of her chair, wobbled a bit on her injured leg, folded her wheelchair neatly, tucked it under her arm, and began the slow hobbling descent down the five steps. Marina rushed up behind her, yowling, and snatched the chair from Topaz's arm. She shoved the folded wheelchair at Ryou and put Topaz's arm around her shoulders.

At the bottom of the five steps, Ryou offered Topaz his hand. She declined, smiling and batting him away. "I'm fine, I'm fine!" she said cheerfully. "Marina, would you mind driving?"

"No, of course not," Marina said equally happily and helped her friend into the passenger seat.

Ryou was busily stowing the wheelchair in the trunk.

"Ryou-kun, could you get Law?" Sakura called. "And lock up?" Then, she lobbed the keys past Marina's head, out the driver's side window, and into Ryou's waiting hands.

Ryou bounded up the steps, stuck his head inside the house, and shouted, "Yo! Law-san, let's go!"

Law materialized in the doorway, looking pale and nervous and shifting uneasily from foot to foot.

Ryou smiled sympathetically. "It's alright, Law-san, it's alright." Then, he gently took the other man by the elbow, locked the house, led him to the car, and slipped into the backseat with him. "Alright, Marina-chan, put the pedal to the metal."

Staring at his hands where they lay folded in his lap, Law wondering thought about the fantastic familiarity the three of them bestowed upon each other. They were close, even Ryou, who was still a slave as far as Law knew.

Quietly, the car puttered along down the road. Marina, Topaz, and Ryou chatted amicably as they drove.

Law remained quiet and still as a statue until Topaz asked, "Law, are you alright? You're awfully quiet."

"Yes, Master."

Topaz heaved a deep sigh and Ryou leaned forward to whisper something in her ear. Topaz shook her head and whispered. Marina whispered something as well. Then, the quiet conference ended and they each sat back in their seats to resume their cheery conversation. This time it seemed choreographed strictly for his benefit.

Finally, they pulled into the densely packed parking lot of the mall. The cars were like hard candy, shiny and brightly colored. People bustled to and fro from vehicles of all shapes and sizes. There were slaves laden with bags trailing behind haughty looking masters. Parents laden with children and a slave-nurse bustling along beside them. Groups of teens in strange dress, some with slaves and some without. The people were as vibrant and different as anything Law had ever seen though he kept his eyes lowered to the pavement.

Ryou got Topaz's wheelchair out of the trunk, set it down, and opened it for her. Without anyone's help, Topaz limped from the car and jockeyed herself into the wheelchair. Then, she put her hands on the wheels and rolled slowly down the slope of the parking lot. Marina, Ryou, and Law trailed after her.

A car started to back out, not seeing Topaz in her chair.

Marina was trailing far behind Topaz, squabbling with Ryou. Law was between them and Topaz, absently following after his master. Since he was looking at the ground, he didn't see the car until Marina let out a scream.

"TOPAZ!" Marina screamed in panic and horror.

His eyes snapped up immediately and took in the reversing vehicle in an instant. Topaz saw it, too. Violating the rules of slavery, he took in the curve of her face and pale flawless porcelain skin and the light caramel shade of her hair. Then, he saw her mouth twist in a grimace of terror and she brought her hands up to her face as if that would shield her from the coming onslaught of the vehicle.

"Topaz!" Ryou shouted now. His feet pounded the pavement behind Law and then Law's body lurched into action.

The muscles in his legs bunched tight and he sprang at the back of her chair. His shoulder slammed into the handles, digging under his collarbone, and his weight propelled it forward so quickly that Topaz's teeth snapped together with an audible click. Her chair rocketed forward, out of harm's way, and Law slammed his face into the pavement.

Without so much as noticing them, the car continued backing up and may have backed right over Law's vulnerable legs if Ryou didn't jump onto the hood and shout at the driver. Marina barreled around the car, grabbed the handles of Topaz's wheelchair, and hauled her backwards. With Topaz close by and under her protection, Marina looped her arms around Law's battered body and dragged him back from the path of the car.

"Are you both alright?" she demanded.

Law's face was a mess of blood and Marina quickly cupped her hand over the wound. Topaz nodded weakly and put her bloody hands on the back of Law's neck, twisting her fingers gently in the soft hair.

"Jesus!" Ryou said and charged around the hood of the car to crouch with Marina. "Some old biddy. She's got coke bottle glasses so thick you can't see a fucking thing!"

"There's nothing we can do," Marina said. "God, that was scary."

Topaz gripped Law's shoulder. "Law, are you okay? Can you stand?"

He nodded weakly and put his hand to the bloodied side of his face, inadvertently laying his palm over Marina's. Instantly, he flinched and lowered his hand again from her warm skin.

"Ryou-kun, get me a hanky out of my purse please. I dropped it somewhere," Marina ordered.

"Right, okay," Ryou said and whirled to find her purse.

"Marina-chan, here." Topaz wobbled from her wheelchair and gripped the handles tightly to steady her shaking legs. "Let's get Law off the pavement."

"I agree," Marina said and hauled Law up under his arms.

He was unsteady on his feet and pressed his hand to the bloody side of his face. Marina muscled him into Topaz's wheelchair and then gripped the handles to prevent him from rolling backwards.

Topaz swayed on her feet and her braced leg trembled.

"Topaz," Marin said worriedly. "You look like you're about to drop." She looked from Law to Topaz to the wheelchair and back. "Maybe you could sit on his lap or something."

Topaz swayed again and nearly fell. Ryou barreled up behind her just in time to catch her by the shoulders and quickly swoop her legs up in his arms, bridal-style. Marina's purse hung from the crook of his elbow in an almost ladylike manner.

"Let's get you sat down, darlin'." Ryou said and gently set her down in Law's lap.

"Alright," Marina said and turned to Ryou. "I think we need to head back. Could you stay here and shop for some clothes for Law? They don't have to be perfect, just fit him for the most part. He's about your size."

"Yeah, sure, Marina-chan," Ryou said immediately. "No problem."

Marina hugged him and whispered, "That was even closer, right?"

He nodded against her shoulder and squeezed her very tightly. "We would have lost her that time if it wasn't for Law." he whispered.

"I think he'll be good for her," Marina whispered. "She needs a friend."

"And she for him," Ryuo murmured.

In the car, Marina thought of what had happened to Topaz. She thought of the images that still plagued her friend in her nightmares and the thoughts that relentlessly bounced through Marina's head at the horrors Topaz had suffered through and how the other girl hadn't even told her all of what had happened to her.

Topaz was a wonderful person, but she had been hurt so badly, too badly, horribly.

Law was a spectacularly broken young man and he had been torn apart by life itself.

They had both suffered so terribly, but maybe with each other they would have a chance to heal.


	3. Chapter 3

Law came back to his senses as they pulled into the driveway. The side of his face was sticky and stiff and hurt as if his head had taken a good knock. For a moment, he puzzled about what had happened. Then the memory of the scent of Topaz's caramel-toned hair tickled his nose and everything came crashing down around him like a house of cards.

He tore Marina's handkerchief away from his face in panic, tearing open the way the wound had seal to the cloth. Hot blood coursed down his neck and he immediately slammed his bare palm over the injury again. Beside him, Topaz turned in her seat and murmured, "Law, what's wrong?"

His heart clenched in his chest in terror. He had touched her without permission, _touched_ her!

"Hey, hey, shh, it's alright," Topaz whispered and laid her palm gently on his thigh. "We're on our way home. Ryou-kun is going to drop some clothes off for you a little later, alright?"

He nodded weakly. It was all he could do to keep from hyperventilating. His heart was hammering so fast he thought it would break out of his chest.

"How's your head, Law?" Marina asked as she signaled to turn into Topaz's driveway.

"I'm fine," he whispered.

"How's the bleeding look, Topaz-chan?"

Topaz's warm fingers probed the raw edges of the wound around Law's hand. "It started again, but only because he pulled the hanky off," she said finally and lowered her hand to her lap. Her fingers glistened red with his blood. "He'll be alright. I don't think we need to go to the hospital so long as he doesn't grow feverish."

"Pavement is very filthy," Marina agreed.

"Nasty!" Ryou agreed with a grimace.

Topaz nodded and then mumbled, "I can't believe that happened. I should have been paying attention."

"That old lady shouldn't have been on the road!" Marina snapped and put the car in park. "Okay, everybody out. Law, could you get Topaz-chan's chair from the trunk?"

Law scrambled quickly from the car, but the second he stood, his head whirled. Staggering, he bumped into the car and stood for a moment, staring at his hands and trying to get his vision to stop swimming. When it finally cleared, he hustled to the back to the car.

Marina popped the trunk and then went up the five steps to unlock the door.

Law brought the chair around to Topaz's side where she was patiently waiting with the door open. He set the chair down, hesitated, and then offered his hand. She took his hand immediately and jockeyed herself unsteadily into her wheelchair. Then, she gave his fingers a pleasant squeeze and gripped the wheels to propel herself forward. At the stairs, Marina was waiting. She looped an arm around Topaz's shoulders, helped her up the steps, and then waited again for Law to lift the wheelchair. Then, Topaz eased herself back into the chair and rolled into the house.

"Alright, then, Law-san, I'm going to shove off and go back to the mall to pick up Ryou-kun," Marina said and handed him Topaz's car keys. "We'll stop by a little later with some clothes for you, okay?"

He nodded.

For a moment, Marina appeared to be at war with herself, then she shook her head, and walked away to her car. He watched her pull out of the driveway, wondering if she had planned to hug him as she had Ryou. Maybe his new master had just arranged a foursome of some sort.

Law shivered.

Inside, Topaz was busily sorting herself out of her jacket and hanging it in the closet. "Well, that was exciting, wasn't it?" She asked.

"Yes, master," Law said immediately.

Topaz sighed. "Okay, Law, we need to talk."

His entire body tensed in fear and anticipation of a beating for touching her earlier. He shivered.

Topaz gripped the wheels of her chair and rolled herself into the living room. There, she carefully limped to the plush leather sofa and sank into the cushions with a sigh. "Come, sit with me," she murmured.

Shuddering in dread, Law went into the living room after her, but rather than sitting beside her on the couch, he knelt at her feet with his head bowed.

Topaz sighed again. "I meant here on the couch with me, Law."

He flinched.

"It's fine," she murmured and gently put her hand on the top of his head. "Listen, I have to explain something to you." She paused, almost hesitating. "I didn't buy you to hurt you or to use you. I need… protection and companionship since… what happened. Sometimes, I need help because of my leg." Tenderly, she slipped her fingers beneath his chin and tried to raise his face, but he resisted.

Law wasn't sure he could dare believe what he was hearing. His heart hammered against his ribs and he felt lightheaded. Topaz's soft warm fingers were stroking through is hair, gently, lightly, not pulling or ripping at the locks or digging her fingernails into his scalp as his past master had done. Then, she had her hand beneath his chin, trying to lift his head. He resisted, but it was halfhearted. He wanted so badly to believe her, so badly, more than anything else he had ever wanted in his entire life.

"I just… I want you to be my friend," she continued.

This time, when she tried to raise his face, he allowed her, but kept his eyes closed. Her fingertip traced the shell of the wound on his face gently, not gouging it apart to bleed anew as past masters would have done.

"I'm so sorry you got hurt today," she whispered. Her voice was thick and choked, as if she was crying.

Hesitantly, Law's gunmetal eyes slid open and he looked up into the illuminated shape of her face. She was so pretty he almost looked away and, when she saw his eyes on her, she did not strike him or grin wickedly at the thought of punishments to come, she simply smiled with true happiness.

Her features were delicately sculpted and as beautiful as if she had been airbrushed by a talented artist. Her skin was the color of fine porcelain and framed by short not-quite-shoulder-length caramel tresses. She had big and innocent forest green eyes fringed with pale lashes so long they shadowed her face. Her lips were a soft pink and parted slightly and curved by her wonderful smile. But there was the telltale touch of tragedy in her face. There were faint shadows beneath her eyes and a healed scar in the corner of her mouth as well as across her throat; faint, but there. She had suffered, been through hell.

"Hey, Law," she whispered and smiled. "You have beautiful eyes."

A faint flush rushed into his face. For some reason, the fact that she found some part of him beautiful really made him happy.

"Actually, all of you is beautiful," she whispered and threaded her fingers through his blue-black hair. She rubbed his scalp in a massage, working some of the tension from his body.

He leaned against her legs and her brace dug into his flesh. He didn't care though. She was touching him so kindly, gently, making touching feel good instead of terribly painful. Hot coals could have been set beneath his feet and he still would not have moved for the world.

He wasn't sure how long they sat like that–he at her feet, she with her fingers wrapped through his hair, but it felt like an eternity. He could have died happy right then and there, but the doorbell sounded cheerfully through the house. Rousing as if from sleep, Topaz yawned and stretched, taking her warm hands from him. He almost whimpered at the loss of contact.

"Master?" he whispered.

Topaz smiled at him and a warm feeling spread through his chest. He always, always wanted to see her smile. "Law, do you think you could call me Topaz? Please?"

He bit his lip nervously. Then, quickly while he still had his courage, he nodded and whispered timidly, "Miss Topaz?"

She raises her hand and he flinched, thinking she'd strike him, but all she did was touch the side of his face and smile warmly. "You're eyes are so pretty."

"Thank you…" he whispered.

Topaz smiled and cupped his face in her hands. "No, thank you. You saved my life today," she murmured.

A hesitant smile graced his features and then faded because she staggered into her wheelchair and the thought to ask her what had happened was on the tip of his tongue.

"Shall we answer the door, Law-kun?" she asked and he didn't miss the honorific. She saw him as a person, not a slave, and maybe she always had.

Smiling, he followed after her, but when she pulled open the door, it wasn't Ryou or Marina waiting on the other side.


	4. Chapter 4

...

If Law had opened the door, he might have attacked the big man on sight because he was just so happy to have someone who seemed to care for him that he would protect Topaz to the death without the slightest hesitation. But, as it was, Topaz opened the door and squealed, "Kuronue-san!" when she laid grass-green eyes on the big man's crimson orbs.

"Hey, darlin'," he grunted and hefted a sack of clothes. "I caught that peppy girl and the dragon boy at the driveway. They asked me to bring this up for you."

"It's odd for Marina-chan not to come up here herself. I wonder what kept her," Topaz said as she took the sack from Kuronue.

"Some kind of sudden emergency," Kuronue said and stepped in through the threshold. He was so tall he almost considered ducking so as to not hit his head.

Kuronue was a big, heavily muscled man though his frame was lean and wiry. He had a strong face and firm square jaw. His hair was dark and a few strands hung messily in his face, shadowing his crimson blood-colored eyes. He wore all black, true to his name. Though he was big, he appeared graceful, like a black panther, like a hunter. He pushed some hair back out of his face with one big hand and Law almost took a step back. Kuronue could break him in half like a twig with his bare hands if he suddenly got the inclination.

For a moment, they surveyed each other. Their eyes met, held in some staring match, but Law looked away first. He laid his eyes nervously on Topaz, but she was staring worriedly off into space, surely worried for Marina and Ryou.

"So, this is your new kid," Kuronue said finally.

"It's not very fair to call him kid," Topaz chided and rolled herself backwards a bit. "He's the first."

"The last?"

Topaz rolled her shoulders in a shrug.

Law gazed at her, puzzled.

"Have you eaten yet, Kuronue-san?"

"No, but I can't stay to long. That idiot called me fourteen times, demanding I come down and check on you while he was at work. I think he intends to stop in tomorrow, so be prepared for that," Kuronue grumbled.

Topaz smiled. "What do you have against Kaito-san?"

Kuronue shrugged. "He's a moron."

Topaz giggled. "Alright, thanks for the warning. If you run into Marina-chan or Ryou-kun, ask them to give me a call, please."

"Will do," the big man said. Then, he ducked back through the threshold and quietly closed the door behind him.

Law let his breath out in a rush.

"That's Kuronue-san," Topaz explained and she turned her chair around carefully. "He's an old friend of the family. He checks on me almost every day, but he said he'll relax it to once a week or so if I got a slave."

Law lowered his eyes.

" Law-kun, don't look at the floor. I didn't buy you just for that," she whispered. "Everything I said to you is true." Suddenly, her face lit up. "I tell you what! We'll make a promise. I promise never ever to lie to you," she said proudly and held out her pinky, curved slightly and waiting for his.

He wet his lips and then nervously bit his lower one. Then, finally, he said, "I will also never lie to you."

"Ah," Topaz began, but then she smiled. "Alright." They wrapped their pinkies around each other's and made a short shake.

"You can never break a pinky promise," She said. "Or you die." She smiled. "At least that's what Marina told me."

Law smiled faintly. "Alright," he whispered.

"Good, let's have some dinner! Are you hungry?" Law hesitated and Topaz turned in her chair to look over her shoulder at him curiously.

"I am, Miss Topaz," he said finally.

She smiled and rolled herself into the kitchen. "I'll make us some chicken and vegetables."

...

Law was tucked neatly in his bed. He was showered and dressed in clean clothes with his teeth brushed and his belly nicely full. He hadn't been beaten, raped, or molested. Topaz cared for him, wanted him as a friend, and called him -kun. He had never been so happy in his entire life. Within moments, he dropped deeply off to sleep, but was woken in the night by the sound of Topaz crying out in her sleep.

For a moment, he wondered if he had woken himself with his own cries for nightmares plagued him frequently, but sometimes escaped him the moment he awoke. Normally, nightmares left a clammy sheen on sweat on his skin. Now, though, his body was dry and relaxed and warm.

He sat up in bed, holding his breath and listening for the sound to come again.

Finally, after he was almost asleep again, it returned.

It was a quiet whimper, nearly inaudible, but was filled with such gut-wrenching terror that Law felt it racing up his own throat. Then, he heard a timid terrified little voice pleading, "Please, don't… please, don't hurt me… please!" There was a soft cry of pain, stifled, but the agony was thick in it.

Immediately, Law pulled back the covers, swung his legs out of the warm bed, and put his cold feet on the floor. Quietly, he eased open his bedroom door and peaked out. The sounds were louder in the hallway, but still muffled and they were coming from Topaz's room. He was sure of that now.

Edging silently down the hallway, he hesitated at her door.

"…please, don't… please!" Another one of her painful anguished little cries crept under the door, wrapped in the scarf of her terrified voice.

Unable to allow her to suffer in her dreams, he timidly opened the door and peaked inside.

Moonlight was streaming through her curtains, falling across the floor and the lower half of the bed like a checker board, and her bedside lamp had been left on, spilling warm amber light throughout her room. Discarded on the floor was a worn paperback book, crumpled open on a page about midway through. Beside her bed were her wheelchair and her brace, waiting for her when she woke in the morning like patient servants.

Topaz was lying on her side on her bed with her pale hair fanned out across the pillows. She slept in long cotton pants and a tank top, showing a minimal amount of skin. Her brown was wrinkled and her pink mouth was twisted into a grimace.

Emboldened, Law eased the door open all the way and slipped into the room. He retrieved her book and laid it carefully on her wheelchair with her brace.

Again, she cried out and suddenly her entire body seized up. Something grabbed her hands and wrenched them over her head, pinning them against the pillows. She struggled against this hold, bending and twisting her body at strange angles trying to escape.

"Please, please, don't!"

Violently, her words were choked off, as if someone was wrapping a hand around her narrow throat. Law could see her pulse hammering away beneath the thin layer of skin. Her chest heaved and jerked as if she was struggling to draw breath, but Law could see no one attacking her.

She appeared to suffer from violent nightmares.

He was hesitant to wake her tough she was clearly in pain. How would he explain being here in her room without permission?

Her head whipped to the side, tears swelled on her lashes, and she suddenly was able to heave in a deep breath. Choking and wheezing, she returned to struggling against whatever unseen force had her hands pinned to the pillows. She was clenching her jaw so tightly that the tendons and muscles stood out.

"No!" She screamed and suddenly lurched up in her bed.

Law stumbled away from her, shocked and frightened. He nearly tripped over his own feet and went sprawling, but managed to keep his balance.

Her shoulders trembled and shook and she slowly brought her shaking hands to her face. She appeared not to see Law and simply sobbed into her long fingered hands. She drew her good leg up against her body, tucking it neatly alongside her, but the lame one remained stretched uselessly on the bed. Leaving the light on, Topaz collapsed against her pillows on her side. She wrapped her arms around her legs and pressed her face into her knees. She continued crying and presumably cried herself to sleep for her back continued shaking and trembling for a long time before finally growing still and falling back into a light even breathing pattern.

Troubled, Law left her room and quietly closed the door.

Back in his own room, sleep did not find him so easily again.

...

I'm glad so many of you like this story! I know it's maddeningly OOC, but the whole fan-canon "Law was a slave, etc." thing was too tempting to not write about.

R&R, please! Reviews equal faster updates!


	5. Chapter 5

Everyone wants to know what happens to Topaz! Never fear, the truth will be revealed, but all in good time... So sit back, relax, and enjoy this chapter! Read and review, please!

...

The morning dawned in the pouring grey curtain of torrential rain. Thunder growled and roared in the distance and lightning flared and flashed. The rain pounded against the windows like phantom fingers, knocking, knocking, as if trying to get in.

Law woke up still feeling rested even though he hadn't been able to sleep since Topaz's cries had woken him. He was used to operating under very little sleep and the few undisturbed wonderful hours would be enough to keep him going all day. Stretching his arms high above his head, he got out of bed and went to the dresser Topaz had helped him put the clothes Ryou had purchased and Kuronue brought in. He pulled out a pair of clean jeans and had to resist the urge to slip into the dirty jeans he had worn yesterday.

Once he was dressed, had brushed his teeth, and splashed some water on his face, he slipped quietly from his room.

The house was quiet and dark.

Law went quickly and quietly through the rooms, but he couldn't find Topaz. Maybe she was still asleep, he decided, and went to listen at her door. He heard a few quiet distressed sounds coming from inside and hesitantly knocked.

Immediately, the sounds were silenced and Topaz's voice whispered, "Bellamy? Is that you?"

Startled, for a moment, Law didn't answer. Then, he heard Topaz begin to cry again and there was great distress and anguish in her sobs. Gathering his courage, he turned the doorknob and gently eased the door open.

"No!" Topaz screamed. "Please, Bellamy-sama! Please, don't!"

Someone was in the room with her!

Law hurled the door open and her stricken eyes met his in an instant. A scream tore from her mouth and then faded into and choking, sputtering gasp.

"L-Law-kun," she whispered with great relief. "It's… it's only you. Thank goodness." Then, she scrubbed her face with her hands as if trying to wash the terror from her features. With a deep sigh, she held out her arms and almost begged him, "Please, will you come here?"

Law went to her and she drew him against her body. He tensed for a second, but slowly his muscles eased.

"Thank you," she whispered into his shoulder and clutched him tightly. She inhaled deeply the scent of him as if drawing him into her heart, into her body. She was shivering, trembling like a leaf in high winds. Her teeth chattered.

"Miss Topaz…" Law hesitated, but continued when she dug her fingers into his back in desperation. "Are you cold?"

She shook her head. "No, no… I just… had a bad dream…" she whispered and gripped him tighter. "Could you just sit here with me for a moment, Law?"

"Of course," he murmured and timidly wrapped his arms around her trembling shoulders.

She leaned hard into him, still gripping him tightly in her slender arms.

After a long moment, he whispered, "Who's Bellamy?"

Topaz shook her head. "He's… I'll tell you… some other time."

He nodded nervously. That could have gone badly. If she had become enraged at his question, she could have beaten or starved him. He let a breath he didn't know he had been holding out in a rush. Then, he gripped Topaz's body tightly against his frame and thanked a God he ceased to believe in that she was such a kind young woman.

Thunder crashed and lightning lit up the dark skies.

Finally, Topaz pushed lightly on Law's chest, putting some distance between their bodies. He took a step back from her immediately though she remained close to him, gripping his hands tightly in her own with an uncanny desperation.

"Thank you," she murmured.

He inclined his head and whispered, "It is my pleasure to serve you, Miss Topaz."

She released her breath in a great shuddering gasp and smiled rather falsely at him. "Alright, Law-kun, what do you say we have some breakfast?"

He nodded. "That would be nice," he murmured.

Topaz continued, "Just let me get dressed and I'll be ready."

Law nodded and turned to leave. As he closed the door, he glimpsed Topaz pulling up her pajamas to slide her stocking on before putting on her brace. Her leg was a mess of bumpy white scars at the ankle. Long thin lacerations ran from ankle to knee. There was also a small crater, shaped like a pair of knuckles on her calf. That was all he glimpsed before the door shut.

...

Shortly after breakfast (rice omelets and mixed fruit), someone barreled through the door, yowling. "Topaz-chan! Topaz-chan!"

Said woman was at the sink, standing on her braced leg and doing the dishes absently while Law shuffled things from the table back to their proper places at her direction. When a tall lanky blonde barreled into the kitchen, Law immediately perceived him as no threat–unlike Kuronue–and continued tucking the milk away in the fridge.

The blonde string bean wrapped both his long arms around Topaz and hugged her tightly.

"Kaito-san," Topaz shrieked and flailed about in his hold.

Law noticed her one leg thrashed and struggled as much as the rest of her, but the braced one hung as limp as a wet noodle. It was useless and he wondered if it was completely paralyzed. His mind wandered back to the image of the twisted white scar around her ankle that was permanently burned into his brain.

"Put me down!" She squealed, giggling. "Put me down this instant, Kaito-san!"

Finally, when Law glanced over at him suspiciously, the blonde set Topaz carefully back on her feet. She had to grip the counter to steady herself as her body was wracked with giggles. She looked at Law and he saw something guarded and nervous in her green eyes.

"So, Topaz-chan, this is the famed Law-san I've heard so much about," the blonde man continued and surveyed Law. "Wonderful eyes… a touch too skinny, but I'm sure you'll straighten that out… strong heart… good hands… and very attractive," Kaito finished with a wink.

Law squirmed, tightening his fingers around the salt and pepper shakers.

"Kaito, stop it! You're making him uncomfortable!" Topaz chided and loaded the last plate into the dishwasher. Then, she leaned over and closed it with a snap. "Law-kun, let's go into the living room," she said and held out her hand for him to take.

Law put the salt and pepper shakers away in the correct cabinet and then carefully grasped Topaz's elbow. Gently, only half supporting her, he helped her limp into the living room with Kaito trailing behind them. Once they had all sank into the cushions of Topaz's furniture–Law in the overstuffed armchair across from Kaito and Topaz on the sofa–Kaito hugged Topaz again a little less vigorously.

"How are you holding up, love?" Kaito asked and pulled back from their hug to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm fine, Kaito-san," she said. "I'm doing much better with Law here to help me." She sent her slave a winning smile and Law felt heat creeping through his chest.

Kaito smiled also. "I'm glad. Well, seeing you, I guess I should have listened to Kurocchi," he said with a sigh.

Topaz smiled even wider and explained quickly to Law, "Kaito likes to give Kuronue-san all these strange nicknames just to make him mad."

"Oh," Law said and allowed a faint grin to grace his lips.

Kaito sighed dramatically again. "Well, seeing as you're getting along just fine, Topaz-chan, I guess I'll be going."

"You could stay for a while if you'd like, Kaito," She offered.

"No, no. That's quite alright. I have an early shift at the hospital today anyway."

Topaz bit her lip and then turned to Law. "Could you go get my chair for me, Law-kun?"

He nodded, rose from the armchair, and hurried to her bedroom to fetch her wheelchair from her bedside. As he left the room, he saw Topaz lean forward and put her face close to Kaito's.

He heard her whisper, "Have they caught him?" and saw Kaito sadly shake his head.

Then, they vanished around the corner of the wall and he glimpsed no more of their conversation.

After short goodbyes, Kaito left, running through the pouring rain to his car. Topaz sat in her chair in the open threshold for a long moment, watching Kaito's dwindling headlights. Then, Law rested his hands on the handles of her chair and pulled her gently away from the door as lightning knifed through the ink-black stormy sky.

"Law," Sakura whispered.

"Yes, Miss Topaz?"

"There's something I need to tell you…"

...

In the grungy hotel at the limits of the city, a slimy green thing slithered across the worn ugly carpet. It was plump and thick, like a snake that had just gorged itself on a fat rat. Another glided across the hideous filthy comforter on the sunken mattress. Six others slunk in the shadows of the dirty little room. Unattached and undisturbed, they had free reign of the naked body strewn on the bed, but without the guidance of their master, they had no reason and no desire to ravage it.

The master was in the shower, his singing muted by both the rattling pipes that fed water to the shower and the pounding rain outside.

One slick thing inched up the body's naked leg and then curled contentedly at the dip of warmth in its belly.

The naked body shifted and groaned, but did not wake.

The master cleaned himself of the day's tasks.

The eight tentacles slithered.

...

Lemme know what'cha think! Leave a review! *dances away*

...


	6. Chapter 6

They went to sit in the living room, once again sinking into the plush cushions of the sofa. Topaz jockeyed herself from her chair and onto the couch without Law's help and he perched delicately on the space next to her.

Topaz wrung her hands and Law noticed that her cuticles were freshly gnawed until they started bleeding. Her fingertips were red and swollen, irritated and almost infected looking. She clenched her hands into fists and put them tightly in her lap.

"There's something I need to tell you…" she murmured.

Law felt his blood turn to ice in his veins.

"I had hoped never to have to talk about it again. This was all supposed to be over… over a long time ago," she whispered and then shook her head sorrowfully. "But they haven't caught him yet. He's still loose." She closed her eyes and shuddered. "I can get you out of here if you want. I can send you to stay with Marina-chan and Ryou-kun behind their gated mansion walls. Just, let me tell you and then you can decide what you want to do."

Topaz shivered again and her teeth chattered. She ran her hands along her braced leg, picking at the buckles on it with her fingernails. It must have hurt her because she grimaced in pain, twisting her mouth. Then, she continued speaking with a wavering and weak resolve.

"I married a… very bad man right out of high school. I wouldn't listen to a word my parents or friends said about him. They saw something horrible in him, but I… I saw something wild, something exciting, in him. Looking back, now, I wonder how I missed the signs. I mean, they were so obvious." Her voice thickened and cracked, broke, and she choked back her tears. "The decline was slow, but it was there. It was so clear."

Law started to reach for her, but she shuddered and he instantly snatched his hands back. His fisted them on his thighs and he felt the muscles quivering beneath his palms.

"He was always jealous when I hung out with other people or talked to other men. At firsts, I thought it was adorable and sweet, but… it wasn't…" Topaz's eyes glimmered with a thick sheen of unshed tears. "I didn't realize at first that he was cutting me off from my friends and family. I just wanted to spend all my time with him so when I made plans to be with someone else, he offered to stay in and watch movies and cuddle all night and I'd always blow them off. As time wore on, I stopped doing that and I'd try to spend time with Kaito-san or Marina-chan. He always stopped me somehow."

Topaz hesitated and a few tears ran down her cheek. "Once, he got me so drunk that I couldn't even walk straight. Whenever we went out in groups, with my friends or my parents or his friends, he always said stuff about me. Mean, derogatory, shameful, humiliating things. Not so much around my parents and my friends, but with his he was truly the worst. He talked about…" she dug her fingernails into the flesh of her cuticles, peeling the skin back, tearing it apart.

This time, Law did cautiously lay his hand over hers and stop her from hurting herself any further.

She wouldn't look at him. Maybe she couldn't…

He knew the shameful feelings that came from abuse and torture, like it was all your fault that horrible things happened to you. He also knew what it was like to have someone talk about the things they did to him at night, making it seem like he was a worthless piece of meat.

He shuddered along with her.

"Then, he was always buying new," her voice stuttered and broke, "always buying new… sex slaves…"

Law bit his lip, hard, almost drawing blood from the healing split on his mouth.

"I only found out what he did to them after it happened. He raped them so brutally, out in the woods behind our house where no one could hear them screaming. He had a little shack set up full of toys and chains and whips. He starved them to death regularly and beat them to death and bled them dry." She let out a great hiccupping sob and pressed her face into her long fingered hands, but she continued through her tears. "I found out he buried all the bodies in my garden, said my love was what made my roses so beautiful, but it was really the rotting stinking bodies he buried there!"

Law frowned. He knew how it was. He had buried other slaves himself, seen and felt firsthand the cruelty of masters who cared nothing for life.

"Then, he started in on me," she whispered. "The first night he beat me, he was so drunk. I thought he'd never do it again, but… he did… he did and so many times… and afterwards, he always cried and broke down and told me he loved me and that he would never do it again. He said he would never hurt me again because he loved me so much."

Her narrow shoulders shook with sobs and she appeared unable to go on. Law gave her hand a little encouraging squeeze. She turned her palms up, clasped his hand, and held it tightly.

"Then, it got worse. He started blaming me, saying I made him beat me because I didn't cook dinner right or I wasn't waiting at the door when he came home. He started to destroy me. He told me I was worthless and that he was the best I would ever have. He told me all the time how generous he was being to settle for me, for some trash when he deserved better. He said I needed to be punished, beaten, for dragging him down. Like the fool, one of those battered women you hear about on the news, I believed everything he said."

Law knew those feelings intimately. He had seen them on other slaves and felt them in himself. He hate that someone as sweet and kind as Topaz had suffered like he had. It created a slow, burning rage inside him that made him want nothing more than to hunt down her assailant. But what could he do? He was a slave, and he'd no doubt be killed.

"I stopped caring about my appearance and I just did everything he said without question. He started demanding sex from me, strange horrible forms of sex." Topaz violently shuddered at the memory and looked like she was going to throw up. "Oral sex so hard he'd shove himself down my throat to choke me nearly unconscious, doggy style while he spanked me, hickies so red that he often drew blood from my skin, and sometimes he'd chain me to the bed and have me however he wanted. He stopped buying sex slaves." She whispered, "He had me now. He didn't need them anymore."

Law gently stroked her hand with his thumb as she went on.

"When he took me to his shack, I knew he was going to kill me and I didn't care. I thought I deserved death," she confessed. Then, she guided Law's hand to the brace on her leg, letting him feel the buckles as cold as ice. "He took a power drill to my leg, starting at the ankle. He shattered all the bones and tore apart the flesh. It never healed even with all the things the doctors did to it. I can't use it anymore. All the nerves are gone."

Law'd eyebrows crashed down in horror.

Then Topaz looked up and her jade-green eyes met his mercury-colored orbs. Her face was wet with tears and her eyes were red from crying. "I'm telling you this because he still wants to hurt me. He'll come here and if you want to go somewhere safe, I'll understand." Then, she yanked her hands away from him, stood, and wobbled into her chair.

Law stared after her. He didn't know what to say.

...

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	7. Chapter 7

After a few heartbeats, Law rose from the plush couch and scrubbed his fingers through his soft obsidian locks. Then, he tugged lightly on the strands. Topaz had actually given him a choice, a choice that involved his own life. He could stay with her and risk death or go somewhere safe and leave her to face death alone.

Maybe it was because she had given him the choice that he made the decision he did…

Quietly, he padded from the living room in search of Topaz. A quick peek in each of the rooms revealed that she was no longer in the house. Law's heart began to beat violently and erratically. Where could she have gone? Had that man come and taken her away to finished what he had started on her leg? Panicked, he rushed outside in search of her and nearly barreled into the back of her wheelchair on the porch.

She was sitting with her good leg drawn up against her chest and her arms wrapped around it. Her fingers were coated in blood, torn apart and he saw parts of her pinky fingernail were ripped out. Her shoulders were trembling minutely and her hair veiled her face from him. Her voice was thick with tears when she finally spoke. "Have you decided?" she asked him.

Law put his hands on the back of her wheelchair and his fingertips brushed her shaking shoulders.

Immediately, her trembling stopped and she went stone still.

"I have," he murmured.

She swallowed. "And…?"

Law pulled her chair back a little, out of the onslaught of the blowing rain. "If… if you'll have me, I'd like," he hesitated, "to stay with you, Miss Topaz."

Her back tensed up again and her voice became a hesitant little squeak. "Really?" she whispered.

He nodded, but she wasn't facing him so he murmured, "Yes."

She let out a shaky sigh of relief. "You'll stay with me," she whispered. "Thank you." She reached behind her shoulder, found his hand, and laid her palm over it. "Thank you, Law. Thank you so much," she sniffled, "for this."

He felt a lump welling up in his throat and whispered, "Thank you for the choice."

Topaz lifted her chin and craned her neck to look at him. "The choice?" she asked and their eyes met.

Law lowered his eyes and whispered, "The choice to stay with you or keep my own life…"

"It's your life," Topaz whispered. "How could anyone try to control another person's life? How could that choice be made by someone else?"

The wind howled through them, rattling in the eaves of the beautiful house and shaking the windows.

Law didn't say anything, but carefully pulled her chair backwards into the house. Safe from the onslaught of chilly wind, he hesitantly touched the short strands of dark hair at the base of her neck, twisting them around his fingers.

She made a small sound in her throat and tilted her head into his hands. "That feels nice," she said softly.

Law hesitated and then whispered, "Is it alright… for me to… touch you like this…?"

Her forest-green eyes slid open and tried to catch his, but he studiously avoided her gaze. His gunmetal orbs were locked on his fingers twining through her pale hair.

He looked so fragile, like a small child stepping out on the limb of a tree branch hoping someone below would catch him. His barred eyes revealed how terribly aware he was of the crippling fall that stretched out below him like an abyss. _His poor broken body_, Topaz thought and traced the paths of the scars on his arms with her eyes.

Finally, her silence drew his eyes from her hair to her face. Their eyes met and held.

Topaz wet her lips to speak, but couldn't find her voice.

The color rushed from his face and he started to pull away.

Topaz caught his hand and held it tightly. A little whimper crawled up his throat and he tried weakly to pull his hand from her grasp.

"Trafalgar," she whispered. "It's alright."

Then, she gently pressed his hand to the warm side of her face.

He shivered and she felt his fear run through her body.

He was afraid to trust her, afraid that this was all a trick. He was also afraid of what she had told him, afraid to lose the life he was just beginning to live. He was afraid to lose her, the only person who had ever seemed to care for him, the first person not to violate or beat or torture him on sight.

He was afraid.

Topaz uncurled his fingers and cupped them around the curve of her jaw. She nuzzled against his palm and let her eyes slide closed.

"It's alright," she murmured.

"Really…?"

She nodded and her mouth curved in a faint happy smile.

Gently, Law stroked his thumb along the high ridge of her cheekbone, just enjoying the velvety texture of her skin. Her eyes were closed; she trusted him. His trust was fragile, tenuous at best, but he prayed that she wouldn't destroy him.

Outside, it was pouring rain, but inside, Law felt the first rays of sunshine warming his frozen heart.

…

Night was a dark humid blanket just outside the windows. The stars stretched out endlessly like sparkling diamonds stitched into black velvet. The rain had finally stopped, but the soil was spongy and worms were flooded onto the stepping stones in Topaz's garden. The air smelled fertile, like earth and wood and cut grass, like flowers could be grown in it.

Law was standing at his bedroom window, dressed in fresh black cotton pajama bottoms and a pale t-shirt with his clean wet hair slicked down against his forehead and cheeks. Nervously, Law unlocked his window and pushed it up. Warm moist night air caressed his chilly skin. Sighing contently, he put his elbows on the window sill and leaned out. He inhaled the scent of the rainy night.

There were many times in his life that he had longed to do this, just look out on the night without feeling as if life was so bleak and dangerous out there in the dark. Moonlight kissed his skin, played over the planes of his face like cool silver and he allowed his amber eyes to slide closed in bliss and comfort.

He felt safe here and that was a rare thing for a slave to feel.

His life had not been easy, but there would always be fond memories that he could look back on, even when he was a slave. There was another slave girl, his best friend, and he would always look back in time and miss her. Unlike him, she had remained a working slave while he had been sold off for his body. His only fond memories of a kind touch came from her and the hug she had given him the day he was sold was the only thing that had kept him going throughout his darkest days.

"Be safe, my friend," she had said.

He remembered the sharp bones of her body against his hard frame and the softness of her skin, bare and bruised and grimy, and the scent of her rain-washed hair. Like him, she had never had a name and it was forbidden to give another slave even a nickname.

Sighing, Law rubbed his burning eyes and looked out into the night. He wondered how she was doing now.

He closed his eyes and inhaled the air deeply into his lungs. A night bird cried in the distance and he opened his eyes hoping to spot its silhouette. A star fell, streaking for a split-second across the dark velvet sky like a misplaced jewel. At that moment, he made a wish with all his heart.

_Please, let this last. Don't take this away from me. Let this last, please…_

There was a faint knock on his door and he turned quickly.

Topaz was standing in the threshold with her hand still poised from knocking. She was smiling beautifully and her green eyes shone with light. Her mahogany-toned hair curled in wisps around her face though she had the front pulled back with a single butterfly clip. She was wearing dark blue pajamas bottoms with a pattern of cherry blossoms on them and a white tank top. He could see the rosy skin of her nipples beneath the translucent fabric and that made him a little nervous, but she looked so gentle that he pushed his fears away.

"Hey, Law-kun," she said almost timidly with a touch of nervousness in her smile. "It's going to rain again tonight. You may want to close that."

"Of course, Miss Topaz," He said and nodded hurriedly.

She bit her lip and looked as if she wanted to say something, but Law ventured a question before she could speak.

"But… is it alright if… maybe I close it later…?" he whispered.

Topaz smiled broadly. "Of course!" Then, the nervousness touched her face again. "Law…?"

His mercurial eyes darkened fearfully and he drew his bottom lip between his straight white teeth.

"I was wondering if you could… maybe, just… um… could you…? Could you…?"

His throat flashed as he swallowed. "Yes?"

"Would you be willing to… um, spend the night with me…?"

Law looked as if he had been struck across the face. All the color drained from his face and he bit his bloodless lips. "O-of co-cour-rse, M-Miss Topaz," he stuttered. His voice cracked and broke with what must have been terror.

Topaz's heart clenched in a sharp painful fist of ice. Immediately, she gripped the doorframe and swayed unsteadily on her feet. Her injured crippled leg tried to buckle beneath her, but the brace snapped it straight.

"No, no, Law," Topaz tried to explain. Her breath rushed out of her lungs in panic, making it nearly impossible to sputter out what she was trying to say. She heaved in a deep breath and managed to calm her racing heart.

Law was curling in his shoulders, shrinking and collapsing in on himself. He looked very small and fragile and she had broken him.

"No, Law-kun, please, wait. Let me explain," she whispered.

He didn't raise his eyes to meet her gaze, but a tremulous shiver ran through his entire frame.

Topaz limped the expanse of his bedroom. Every step forward she took toward him, he took one backwards. Finally, he was backed up against the window, whimpered faintly, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

"Please, listen to me. Let me explain." Tears welled up on Topaz's lashes and she hurriedly brushed them away with the back of her hand. "It's… I can't sleep at night," she whispered. "I'm so afraid that Bellamy will come in and finished what he started on my body."

Law's face eased, but he didn't open his eyes. He stopped biting on his lip and there was a speck of blood on his split flesh.

"I just want someone to be with me," Topaz sobbed. "Dear Lord, I didn't mean what you thought I meant…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Law opened his eyes and took in the shattered heartbroken look on her beautiful face. He wet his lips and whispered, "It's alright."

She fisted her hands in the front of her shirt and stared down at her toes. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "You must think I'm a horrible person."

He shook his head. "No, I think you're a," he swallowed, "a very good person."

Topaz sniffled and looked up into Law's face. The moonlight fell across his cheeks and shone on his eyes, making his gray eyes glow in the dark. He looked beautiful, like some kind of strange paradoxical god. He was strong and handsome and rippling with power yet he radiated fear and abuse and years of torment.

"And… I'd be," he swallowed, "willing to spend… the night with you…"

Topaz shook her head. "No, never mind. It's alright," she said. Then, as fast as her crippled leg could carry her, she ran from him.

He heard her door slam down the hall and then, everything was silent.

Outside, it began to rain.

...

Questions, comments, concerns?


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